Eavesdropping
by Nash Carter
Summary: Challenge story one is unconscious, the other talks to him, and somebody listens in...


Eavesdropping

If you live long enough, you find out that some things are not as bad as you once thought. Like hospitals. Hospitals used to be something I tried to avoid as much as I could. Now I know that he who goes to a hospital today can go to a hospital another day. That is, you just might live a little longer. Yup, if you live long enough you learn a lot about life, the universe, and all the rest.

Now one of the things I learned is, that if you are in a hospital you should try to get a semi private room. A private room is boring as hell, and a regular room - forget it. You have to share it with half a dozen other guys, and they snore, cough, sneeze, moan, and make a whole lot of other noises. Annoying. Really, really, annoying. Too many sick people.

A semi private room is a good compromise. If you want privacy, you just close the curtain. But a lot of the time you meet some pretty interesting people. Like this time.

I had been in hospitals enough to know how things work. I had been there for a few days, just the regular check up after my heart surgery, and as usual I made sure I got a semi private room. Good thing to have a good insurance, huh? After two days alone, I was glad to have company. I expected someone to talk to, someone to crack jokes with, and someone to tease the cute nurses with. Hey, I'm old, not dead!

What I got was nothing I would ever have expected.

I've always had a sound sleep, you could launch a rocket beside my bed and I wouldn't wake up. That's why I didn't wake up when they wheeled that guy into my room. I guess I should say 'our room'. I had the right bed, so he was to my left. First thing I saw was the wide range of equipment that surrounded him. Some IVs, his arms looked like needle cushions. Monitors beeped, which was a good thing cause it meant he was alive. Sure coulda fooled me.

His arms were just about all I could see from him, except his face. The sheets covered him to the waist, while his upper torso was all but wrapped in bandages. Never seen a guy with that much gauze on him. What wasn't covered in white was covered in blue and black. His skin was usually a dark tan, but now it was awfully pale. Especially his face. Oh, man. Talk about white. I mean, there's white and then there's _white_. Probably a healthy olive tan normally, but now it was so pale, the bandages on his head were hardly whiter. Is that a word, whiter?

Too bad, too. He was such a good looking fellow, I could tell that even with all the terrible bruising that distorted his facial features. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not gay or anything. But I can tell handsome when I see it. And he was handsome. I've been in that business long enough to say, he was definite big screen material. Haven't I mentioned that? Up till my second heart attack I was one of the top of the line talent scouts in Hollywood. I won't give you names, you wouldn't believe them anyway. But I discovered some of the biggest names around. So, if I tell you someone has the looks, you can believe me.

And this guy had the looks. Even in the condition he was in. Maybe not the classic beauty of a Clark Gable, more the rugged good looks of a - well, he was in a class of his own. Hard to tell when a guy is lying in a bed, but he was tall, like around six feet. Give or take. Dark curly hair, long lashes, high cheek bones and a mouth women would love. Probably had a cocky, lopsided grin. Would probably take a while till his broken jaw was healed, before he could grin again. Or even talk. Too bad he had his eyes closed, I was sure they were as interesting as the rest of the fellow.

Now please don't believe I stared at him all the time, I'm good and I'm fast. I can look at a person, no matter if it's a woman or a man, for a second or two and have them memorized. It's a gift.

As I said, you can meet pretty interesting people in hospitals. And somebody who was swathed in bandages like some old Egyptian mummy had to be interesting. Couldn't wait for the guy to wake up.

Which was something that probably wouldn't happen any time soon, judging from his looks.

You know, when I was a young fellow, I kinda took to racing. Bikes, cars, horses. No matter what, as long as it was fast. Took to flying, too. That was before I married, of course. My wife never said a thing, but I could tell from the look in her eyes that it was hard for her watching me take stupid risks. So I quit. Then came the war, and I lost my taste for adventure in a German prison camp after I was shot down. But back in the thirties you couldn't keep me away from anything fast. And I paid for it, too. Got hurt lots of times. Never any lasting damage, but enough to warrant hospital stays. Know what I hated most? Waking up in a strange place, hurting all over, and nobody around to ask what the hell happened. Scary. Bad enough during the day, but at night it's worst.

That's what I remembered when I saw my new neighbor. Because it wouldn't be like that for him. He wouldn't be alone. Somehow I could tell that this man would never be alone.

See, this is what I like about this particular hospital. Staff is not only efficient, but also human. They do their best for their patients, and sometimes that includes bending the rules a little. They knew me well enough to know I wouldn't mind, so they did something really nice for this guy.

They allowed somebody to sit with him, although he was unconscious, and although it was past visiting hours.

Sitting to his left, holding his left hand, was the man's friend. And I could tell he was really a friend, not just an acquaintance. Not just a guy he hangs out with sometimes for a beer or two. But a real, true, friend. The kind you have for life. I could tell all he saw was his injured friend, he had no idea I was there, and I wasn't even sure he would care if he did.

Curly's friend was definite heartthrob potential, too. At least as tall as he guy in the bed, and blond. The kind of blond some women would kill for. Classic features, and blue eyes. Now, Curly I would cast as the swashbuckling hero, like maybe a pirate or a masked avenger or something along these lines. Blondie was more the all around good guy. Could see him as a Viking warrior, or a knight in shining armor. Wish I could put those two on the big screen. I bet the camera would love them.

But at least for now, movie stardom was the farthest from Blondie's mind. Been a long time since I saw this kind of concern, compassion, and downright fear for another person on anybody's face, in anybody's eyes. The way he held Curly's hand in his own, like it was some precious gem or something. The way he looked at him, his light blue eyes red rimmed and bright with unshed tears. That look conveyed so much love for the other, I felt I had no right to witness this scene.

Hey, get your mind out of the gutter. That's not what I meant. Those two were as straight as they come. I know, I've always known when people get it on with each other. And I've always known which way somebody swings. One or the other, or both. Don't believe me? I could give you names, you wouldn't believe them. Doesn't matter what they do in public, or on screen, I just know. Like Rock Hudson. Can't imagine him doing that? Wanna bet? I could even tell you with whom he's doing it, but I won't.

No, these two, Blondie and Curly, they were straight. Still, what they shared was something special. Almost had the feeling like I shouldn't be here, watching them. And then Blondie started talking to Curly. And I definitely knew I shouldn't be there. It was such a private moment, I wondered if I should tell him I was there. But then I decided against it. Might embarrass him, and I didn't want that. Maybe I should just pretend I was sleeping, if he ever looked my way. But from the looks of it, he was in a world of his own, just him and Curly.

"It's about time you woke up now, buddy. Been sleeping long enough. Hey, did you see the cute nurse with the green eyes? Could tell she liked you. Have to wake up so you can get her phone number. Come on, wake up, please." His voice was soft and gentle, like he was talking to the most important person in his life. Maybe he was.

"You know, you have to wake up now, so I can kick your butt for that stunt you pulled there. What's that supposed to be, anyway? You gotta stop doing things like that, or next time I'll kill you myself." The words were scolding, but his tone was so tender and loving you could tell he just tried his best not to be too mushy. "That must have been the stupidest thing you ever did, and that says a lot. Mushbrain." Still that warm, caring tone. Who was he trying to fool? Nobody would believe he was really mad.

Or was he? There was a weird tone in his voice. A desperate, almost frantic tone. And yes, he was mad. At something or someone. Maybe the circumstances that put them in this place. Maybe himself. Not at Curly, that much I could see. He just desperately tried to keep it together, and chewing his friend out seemed to help. But he was still unable to produce a tone that would have made it believable.

"You know of course that this won't get you out of writing up that report, don't you? Dobey's gonna rip you a new one, too. Told him he had to get in line." Weird, the unfriendlier his words became, the softer his tone got. By the time he finished, his voice almost failed him, was barely above a whisper. He lowered his head, looking down at his hands that held Curly's slightly smaller one, studying it. I couldn't see it too well from my side, but if it looked anything like his right hand, the usually probably strong, darker hand was now awfully white, bruised, scraped, scratched. It looked so vulnerable, almost fragile.

"You can't do that to me. Please, please, just don't do that to me." Barely a whisper, I had to strain my ears to hear him. Good thing I've always had good ears. Looking back, I know of course that it was not a very polite thing to do, listening in like that. But the drama that unfolded before - or rather beside me - had me enthralled. I didn't even realize what I was doing, so engrossed was I in what happened there between these two guys.

"I mean, just what were you thinking, huh?" Stronger now, but still in that desperate, broken voice. The look in this man's eyes as he now studied Curly's face was so intense, his eyes looked like blue lasers; I almost expected blue beams to come out of them. "Why did you do that? How could you do that to me? Did you ever think -" He broke off, breathing heavily. Actually, it sounded more like a sob. More and more I wondered just what had happened to the man in the bed beside me to put him there. From Blondie's words I figured that it was something he had done, that he had somehow put himself in danger. Deliberately. But somehow I also felt that he had had a very good reason to do that. Still, whatever it was, it left the big blond Viking heartbroken.

"Sorry, Starsk, I didn't mean that. You know that, don't you? It's not that I don't know why you did it, it's just that I don't understand... you didn't really think I'd want that, do you? How am I supposed to feel, how am I supposed to handle this... to live with this? I... I don't know, of course I'm grateful, you know that, don't you? And I feel... humbled... that you would do that. For me. And then I'm mad as hell that you would make such a decision all by yourself. I know, there was no time, but still - All you left for me to do was pick up the pieces. But tell me, buddy, who is going to pick up the pieces of my heart if you... if you leave me? I'll tell you who. Nobody. Because they'll be too small to pick up. And even if somebody found some of them, the most important parts would be gone anyway. Because you are the most important part of my heart."

Oh man. This was getting really intimate. No, not _that_ kind of intimate. I already told you, get your mind out of the gutter. But here was a man who poured his heart out to his friend, and I had the strong suspicion that he wouldn't have done that if he'd known I was there and listening. But if I now made my presence known, it would just embarrass him. Besides, this was so good, I really didn't want to miss anything. So I told my conscience to take a hike and kept silent and listening. Sue me.

"Do you even know how this whole mess ended? We got them all. Dobson and Grainger are in custody, Dobey booked them himself. Jefferson is dead. Fucking asshole, I'm not sorry. Not after what he did. Though maybe it would have been nice to see how he fares in the pen, bet he'd 've been a favorite with all the good old boys. Hope he rots in hell."

Was this really the same man? All gentleness gone, his voice was now hard as steel, full of hate and loathing. For the guys he had mentioned, of course. What was that, Dobson, Grainger and Jefferson? Seems these nice fellows had something to do with Curly - what had Blondie called him, Starsk? - being in the condition he was. And there was this other name again, Dobey. Dobson and Grainger in custody, Dobey booked them. A cop, obviously. And before, Blondie had told Starsk that Dobey would "rip him a new one", so he was probably a superior. Which meant that Blondie and Starsk were also cops. And whatever Starsk had done, whatever had happened to put him in this condition, from what the Viking had said Starsk obviously had done it for him. This got more interesting all the time.

"All the others are being rounded up at the moment. We'll get them all." The hard edge in his voice was gone. No satisfaction, no triumph. Just a deep sadness. "But at what a price. Whatever they say, it wasn't worth it. No case is worth that. I'm not worth that."

Again he lowered his head, this time lifting Starsk's hand so his face touched the back of the limp hand in his own. When he lifted his head again, I could see that he had lost the fight against his tears. Never minding his own wet cheeks, he gently brushed away the moisture on Starsk's hand.

"How many more times are you going to do this, partner? Always putting me before yourself? Allowing those bastards to beat you within an inch of your life, just so you wouldn't blow my cover? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Can you even imagine how I felt when I walked into that room, seeing you like this?"

Uh oh, this was bad. So this was what had happened. Curly - Starsk - had protected Blondie's cover, and this was what got him hurt so bad. "Within an inch of his life," Blondie had said. Was hard enough for me to see the man lying in a hospital bed, knowing what he had went through, and I didn't even know him. Had to be a hundred times worse for Blondie, finding him before the doctors got a chance to work on him, knowing his partner had taken all of this to protect him. Scratch hundred, make that a thousand.

"I didn't even know if you were even still alive. You looked so dead... I thought I would die right there, too." I've seen this kind of pain on the face and in the eyes of a man before. A bad accident on the set. A piece of machinery malfunctioned, and a stuntman got pinned when a crane overbalanced and fell on him. Crushed his sternum, most of his ribs, pelvis, collarbone, one hip, and one femur. Poor devil didn't pass out. Was conscious for a long time. Couldn't even scream in his pain, because he didn't get enough air. Died before the ambulance could arrive, but he was completely lucid until the end. The pain I saw there came pretty close to what I saw on Blondie's face.

"Starsky..." Now what was it, Starsk or Starsky? One was probably his nickname; most likely his real name was Starsky. Don't know why, just a feeling. Blondie sighed, sounded almost like a sob again. "Starsky, if I ever lose you, I'll lose myself. I need you. It's as simple as that. Don't you ever get yourself killed over me. Don't die protecting me. I couldn't live with that."

Now this is something I absolutely believed. He looked so completely devastated, it was heart wrenching. But what he obviously didn't realize, was that he would have done the exact same thing had the roles been reversed. He would have taken the same abuse to keep his partner safe. Because they were not just partners, and not just friends. They were _Best_ Friends. With a capital B and F. The best I've ever seen, not even on screen.

Kinda reminded me of a poem our teacher in German class tortured us with. Never would have admitted it, but I actually liked it. Well, once I got around the words, and to the meaning behind. Something about a guy who attempts to stab a the king and is caught. The king is obviously a cruel tyrant, so he probably deserved to be put out of business. He is sentenced to death, and asks for a few days' delay, something about a wedding. Always wondered why he didn't wait with his assassination plan till after the wedding, but then we wouldn't have this beautiful piece of art. Anyway, his friend agrees to stand in and if the would be assassin doesn't return in time, he is crucified instead. Well, everything ends well, even the king comes to his senses and starts acting like a human being. All because there were two men who were loyal enough to each other to be willing to die for each other.

With these two it was the same. Blondie and Curly, that is. Sorry, Blondie and Starsky. They would do anything for each other. Even die. Even live. Even suffer through the worst abuse. Now the one thing Starsky needed to do for his big blond knight was wake up. Which was probably pretty hard, because once he woke up he would be in a world of pain. Of course I didn't know exactly what his injuries were, but judging from the dressings everywhere, they were probably rather severe. Gotta hurt like hell. But Curly waking up was the only thing that would keep Blondie from imploding. Or exploding. Or whatever.

Know what? The connection these guys had was uncanny. It was as if Curly felt Blondie's anguish, and even deeply unconscious as he was, he fought his way back to the surface.

It was amazing. Blondie's face suddenly changed. His red rimmed eyes went wide, with a look of such wonder and joy it was almost painful to watch. Then he broke into the widest, brightest, smile I've ever seen. As I watched, Starsky's eyes slowly opened ever so slightly, and despite his pain and his broken jaw he got enough control of his facial features to grace Blondie with a tiny little smile.

I've never seen such joy on anybody's face before. And I don't think I ever felt the kind of joy I saw on Blondie's face. His eyes lit up, and it was almost like the whole room seemed brighter for it. His lips moved, but no sound came out. But there was another sound. The sound of a weak voice, less than a whisper, that breathed a single word. "Hutch." Again Curly gave his all to provide his friend with what he needed.

That was the moment I finally did the right, the decent thing. I turned away, leaving those two to their own private world.

Over the next few days I came to know them better. Curly - Starsky war really a great roomie, and Hutch, his blond Viking, was great company. Of course, Starsky was in a lot of pain, but he got better. And although he could grouch and pout with the best, he was also incredibly brave, and he never allowed his partner to wallow in guilt. I actually missed them when I was discharged, and went in to visit them.

Never again did they get all emotional with each other in front of me, but you know what? The night Hutch talked to his unconscious friend is one I will always treasure as one of my fondest memories, teaching me again that there are good people out there who will do anything for love.

The end.


End file.
